


Paperback Writer

by auroraphilealis (xrosepetalsx)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AUTHOR AU, M/M, Pre-Slash, author phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xrosepetalsx/pseuds/auroraphilealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Lester’s novel is still riddled with errors and mistakes, but he hates the whole editing process because it results in nothing more than re-written scenes and a bad taste in his mouth, because he’s never quite satisfied with what he’s written. And then he meets Dan, the cute guy at the coffee shop who makes sure Phil knows he could help him edit his novel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperback Writer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spacenerdmelly](http://spacenerdmelly.tumblr.com) for the [phanficexchange](phanficexchange.tumblr.com).
> 
> I honestly had so much fun with this, as a writer myself, and even though it’s more of a pre-phan type thing, I still hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Title from: Paperback writer by The Beatles
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

****For Phil Lester, writing had always been the easy part; there was the obvious struggle that was the melding of his ideas together into one cohesive story, and then there was the continuous frustration of fleshing out the characters who were going to dominate his life for the next couple of months - but then there were also the words as they flowed easily from his fingertips the second he touched the keys on his laptop (there was just something so calming about getting it all out of his head that always made the words flow together better than anything else ever had in his life.).

That wasn’t to say that it was all easy. Some days were harder than others, and there were times where entire chapters were deleted before they could even be completed. The story changed far more often than Phil ever wanted to admit, and the course of events so often became melded that Phil found himself having to re-read and ctrl-f his own manuscript to re-determine if he’d kept that one scene or not.

In the end though, it was all worth it. Phil would never take back his decision to submit his very first manuscript to his now publisher even _if_ that would have saved him all the trouble of avoiding deadlines.

As it was, eight months into his newest novel, Phil Lester was just about ready to submit it.

If it weren’t for the whole…editing business.

See, that was the part about writing a novel that Phil hated the most. He could write 50,000 words in under two months if his head was wrapped fully enough around the story and he had the right motivation and encouragement in his life, but it was the part where he had to re-read it all before he sent it off to a professional editor that caused Phil _all_ the problems.

Because re-reading his own novels always sent Phil into a flurry of re-writing _everything_. There were no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it; Phil had a problem. He was never fully satisfied with anything he did, least of all his writing, and that meant when he combed over a completed novel, he often not only ended up re-writing entire scenes, but re-structuring the entire plot.

So it was no wonder that, as he was sat in a coffee shop three blocks away from his home, he was left staring at a not-so-blank word document, wishing that his life would end.

Sighing, Phil pressed the lid of his chrome book closed, and rested his face in his hands. He was so tired, but his newest novel was still riddled with endless mistakes and errors that needed fixing within in the next two weeks or he was screwed - and he just didn’t have the time to fix it. Or the desire too. Really, at this point in the writing process, Phil would do just about anything to put it down, even if that did mean getting an earful of it from his publisher the next time they called.

Which would probably be in the next few hours if Phil knew PJ at all, and he thought he did.

Reaching over to where he’d placed his bag when he’d first arrived nearly two hours ago, Phil finally retrieved the coffee he’d bought in an attempt to keep himself going, and lifted the nearly full mug to his lips as he peered around the nearly silent coffee shop.

Across from him on the other side of the room was a man he recognized buried deep inside of a novel of his own, the book held softly and reverently in his hands as he turned the pages. His hair was a soft chestnut brown, swept back in a fringe that made his features appear even softer than they already looked, and when he smiled or laughed, Phil could see his dimple even from here. The man was a constant fixture in Phil’s life, and had been for the last three weeks, and yet he still didn’t even know his name.

He was also sipping at a coffee, but Phil doubted it was as cold as his, and he grimaced at the taste as he put it down.

The man looked up then, catching his eye just as Phil went to make a face at the horrible taste, and he immediately blushed and turned away, turning the face into an awkward cough that surely gave everything away, not to mention the fact that Phil had just been caught staring.

So much for making a good impression, then; not that Phil had ever expected he would, considering he couldn’t even work up the nerve to ask the man his name. He’d seen the man go through at least three novels now, always there before Phil, and never leaving until after, and yet still, this was the first time Phil had ever even caught his eye.

Sighing, Phil stood up and took his mug back up to the barista’s, smiling awkwardly as he presented his still full mug for them to wash. They gave him a pitying look back, and Phil sighed again before returning to his seat.

Nothing seemed to be going his way these days. That was the third mug this week he’d wasted, and he knew the barista’s were wondering what he was doing, not to mention he didn’t think he’d ever work up the nerve to get the cute guy’s attention, let alone hear his thoughts on the books he was constantly reading that Phil was so desperate to hear about. No, nothing seemed to be going Phil’s way these days, least of all his novel, and he was ready to leave.

When his phone rang, he wasn’t surprised to see PJ’s name, and picked it up as he packed his things.

He didn’t even bother to defend himself when PJ asked if he’d gotten any farther, and didn’t catch the knowing look of the cute guy across the room as he left the shop.

\--

Despite not truly wanting to, Phil returned to the coffee shop the next day with his laptop and a jacket slung around his shoulders to keep out the chill of an air conditioned room. As always, the man he’d come to admire was sat in his usual spot, already nursing a mug of something warm that Phil wanted to get his hands on, and flipping the pages on a novel that Phil recognized from yesterday.

In his own hands he held a laptop bag and his wallet as he made his way up to the same barista as yesterday.

They didn’t even blink when he ordered the same thing he always ordered, taking his money and shooing him away to wait. He set himself up at his usual table, and pulled out his chrome book.

He already knew before he opened his manuscript that he’d likely be getting nothing done that day, and sighed as he pressed his glasses up further on his nose – it was Sunday, and despite the fact that he hated the spectacles, he knew he needed to give his eyes a break from his usual contacts.

When the barista called his name, Phil looked up, and blinked in surprise to find the cute guy staring at him.

With a slow smile, the man nodded softly at him, and then returned his attention back to his book. Phil blinked again, and slowly got up.

That had never happened before.

But it didn’t seem that the surprises were going to end there, because as Phil went to retrieve his coffee, he found the barista waiting for him with a pasty as well.

“Wait, I didn’t –“ he tried to protest as they pushed the objects over to him, but they just shook their head.

“It’s a gift, from someone else,” they said.

Confused, Phil felt his brows furrow as he glanced around the shop again, and then pointedly back at the barista who was still trying to shove the food at Phil.

“Who?” he asked, already feeling his heart began to race.

They nodded over in a direction Phil knew all too well, and as he glanced behind him, he caught the man’s eye again. “Dan,” the barista said as Dan smiled at him again.

\--

Now that Phil finally knew the cute guy’s name, he felt like he’d made a step in the right direction, and somehow, as he ate the pastry and drank his coffee that day, he found it a little easier to edit his novel. The will was there, and even as he re-wrote scene after scene, he couldn’t help feeling satisfied.

Dan left the shop before him, but Phil didn’t even have time to notice, he was so focused.

His fingers were a blur on the keyboard, and his attention so caught that he didn’t even see it when Dan moved past him, dropping his novel on top of Phil’s bag on the other side of his table before he left. It wasn’t until the coffee shop was closing that Phil noticed anything, and only then because he was kicked out.

He was packing away his chrome book when the novel caught his attention, and his fingers moved to the sleek cover in wonder. He picked it up almost more reverently than Dan usually touched it, and he kept it close in his hands the whole walk home.

He slept in the next day, and went to meetings showcasing covers, Dan’s novel clasped in his hands throughout every dull moment. He didn’t open it, because he was scared, but he wanted too.

\--

(There was nothing inside but the pages of the novel itself, with a few crossed out words here and there and neat penmanship correcting the mistakes that even a professional editor hadn’t been able to pick up on.)

\--

The following day met with no Dan, and Phil couldn’t smother his disappointment when he entered the coffee shop to find Dan’s spot vacated, his novel still clutched in his hands.

He trudged towards the barista’s anyway, all will and desire to work on his novel sapped neatly out of him, but there was no point in leaving now.

Phil never got the chance to order, however, as they shooed him away. The barista from Sunday was wearing a knowing look as Phil retreated to his corner, and they didn’t bother calling out his name, instead carrying over a mug and another pastry for Phil.

“Another gift,” they explained loftily, and smiled as they walked away. Written on a napkin was a note in the same neat penmanship from Dan’s novel; _a little something to get the creative juices flowing._

Phil laughed, and drank his coffee as he picked at the pastry, the napkin folded and saved neatly in his bag.

\--

Dan got his novel back on Wednesday by a very harassed looking barista, and he smiled and waved at Phil from across the way. There was a little note in the spine telling Dan his thoughts on the characters, and Phil watched him for ages waiting to see his response.

Dan had a different novel with him that day already though, and he didn’t once open up the novel Phil had returned to him. Phil’s gaze was piercing, begging, as he stared. When Dan left, far earlier than normal, he gave Phil a knowing smirk, and Phil blinked in surprise.

With a little wave goodbye, Dan was gone, and Phil felt himself beginning to fall in love.

\--

On Thursday, an abandoned novel lay settled in Phil’s place, the cover wrinkled and used with Phil’s name emblazoned across the top. There was no Dan in sight when he looked around, but the baristas brought a coffee and a note that read _take a break_.

When he cracked the spine of last year’s novel, Phil found it riddled with notes. Some were crisp and clean and editorial, while others looked like key smashes and exclamations of horror and joy.

The neat little plot hole Phil had prayed no one would notice was underlined in multiple places, and all Phil could do was laugh, hard and loud, as he took in the neat little suggestions and commentary on his story.

Most of it was good.

\--

On Friday, Phil showed up first, and he bought Dan his “usual” with a pastry to share, his own cup of coffee held tight in his hands as he sat in Dan’s usual place.

The shop had only just opened, and it was the only time Phil could determine that he would beat Dan here. The early hour wasn’t enough to dissuade him, and he sat running his fingers over Dan’s little notes in his novel while he waited for Dan to turn up.

There was commentary running from the story line to the characters, words that leaked joy and adulation over every aspect of the story, as well as frustration when things didn’t go Dan’s way.

The book was well worn, well loved, and the comments looked old. Phil could tell the difference between the ones Dan had made through the first read through, and the ones he’d made in the second, third, and fourth.

There was question marks and theories as to what would happen next, but there was also underlines and capitalized FORESHADOWING’s and “I knew it!”’s scribbled everywhere, and then there were strike through’s on words that didn’t belong, and arrows adding words that did, corrections to spelling errors and grammar mistakes, but also excited exclamation points over words that Dan seemed to like.

The book wasn’t riddled with errors like his new one was, but they were there, and if Phil wasn’t mistaken, Dan was trying to tell him something.

At eight am, Dan finally showed up, but Phil almost missed him. It took Dan sliding out a seat and putting his coffee mug down for Phil to realize he was there.

When he looked up, Dan was smiling at him.

“Hello,” he greeted softly, and his voice was better than Phil ever could have imagined – soft and sweet like honeyed chocolate.

“Hello,” he greeted in return, conscious of how deep his own voice was.

Dan’s grin deepened, as did his dimple.

“Your voice is better than I expected,” he stated simply when Phil gave him a questioning look. “Always knew it would be deep, but _wow_.”

Phil could only chuckle, reaching up to cover his lips with a hand. He could feel his tongue poking out and it was embarrassing.

Dan reached over and gently took it away.

“Don’t hide your smile. It’s beautiful,” he said, and tilted his head. “You’re here early,” he added conversationally, looking at Phil like he was trying to decipher him. “And you bought me coffee. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, sounding knowing.

The cadence of his voice made Phil’s heart flip over, and he could feel his hands shaking with nerves, but he didn’t hesitate. Instead he nodded, and pushed his old book across to Dan.

“Yes, actually. I was hoping you’d help me with my book.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dan replied simply. Being so close to it was blinding, but Phil found he didn’t mind as Dan reached out to take the old book from him, their fingers brushing.

Phil didn’t imagine the little zing it left behind.


End file.
